I'm Sorry
by The Darklight Angel
Summary: Throughout her life, Tara was always the one to bow her head and hide her face bashfully behind a curtain of silken hair. But this time, it is Willow's turn to lower her face and eyes to the ground as she whispers to Tara's grave. Tara/Willow one-shot


The wind whips around her on this bright yet chilly autumn day, but Willow doesn't shiver. She doesn't even move as it flings auburn hair into her eyes, stinging on impact. This pain means nothing to her, for it _is_ nothing compared to the pain in her heart.

The pain, the hurt, the _agony_ is always there; but it is underlying most of the time. She is scared of what will happen if she lets it consume her, like it did last time. She's afraid to let her anguish out, because if she does, then her dark side might reappear and stain her hands and her soul even further. So she represses it, but it never really leaves. Today is the first time in a long time that she has let herself feel everything. Today is the first time in a long time since she has let it all out.

Because today, Willow is in a graveyard. She sits in the grass, kneeling in front of a certain stone that is erected in the ground.

She traces the letters that are chiseled into it, moving along the almost cutting edge of the** 'T',** to the curve of the **'R'**. She pretends that it is her lover's face she is running her fingers along instead; She pretends that she is facing her lover, seeing her hair, lips, mouth, eyes, and more importantly, the love that radiates from every inch of her body, instead of the tombstone that now marks her final resting place.

Willow can almost fool herself into believing the images in her mind. Yet the key word there, is **almost.** As much as she tries, as much as she wishes, she cannot do it. In the end, Willow always remembers that her love is in heaven, and her body rests deep in the ground below her.

Though this breaks her heart, it heals her at the same time. For she knows that Tara's spirit is always there when she comes to visit. Willow can't see her, but she can _feel_ her presence.

Tara is watching.

Tara is listening.

Throughout her life, Tara was always the one to bow her head and hide her face bashfully behind a curtain of silken hair. But this time, it is Willow's turn to lower her face and eyes to the ground. Her fingers clench the fabric of her skirt as she whispers to Tara's grave and spirit,

"I'm sorry for the million awful things I did and said. And the million other things I could have said and done instead."

Her breathing grows ragged, but she continues on.

"And I'm sorry that you won't spend each minute growing old with me."

"I'm sorry that our life will never be."

Willow stands up, looming over the grave. She feels Tara's arms wrapping around her shoulders in a ghostly embrace, she hears whispers of comfort said in her lover's voice in her ears, but the pain is simply too much to bear. Willow presses her lips to her palm and blows the kiss to the stone, before turning around and walking away, never looking back on the grave.

In her mind, what could have been their future flashes in and out of focus, in tiny little snippets. She pictures them, she and Tara, waking up on a Sunday morning, smiling at each other in the new light, without a word, knowing that they love each other.

In her mind, children that they would never have ran around, laughing merrily with their mothers.

In her mind, the pictures on the walls rattle as the children thump around their little house.

A lifetime passes behind Willow's eyes. A lifetime that Willow wants, more than anything, but can't have. She knows that Tara wanted... _wants_ that fantasy as much as Willow herself does. She knows that Tara is aware that they can never have it.

She knows that Tara hurts as much as she does.

So Willow is strong, because she knows that Tara is watching her.

Tara is watching.

Tara is listening.

Willow's hurt is much.

Willow's heart is shattered.

But Willow remains strong.

She doesn't tear up as she passes row after row of tombstones. She doesn't sob as she walks through the gates of the cemetery. She remains stoic, she remains quiet, she remains _strong._

It is only after she reaches the room that she now occupies by herself, that one last flash of the family she and Tara can't have passes by.

It is only then, when Tara isn't watching, that Willow allows herself to cry.


End file.
